When I am old…

Fuck purple,
When I am old I shall find a hovel,
Shut myself away,
And brood.

When the storm comes,
I will run up the highest hillside,
And curse the gods,
For the reality they’ve wrought.

Safe in the knowledge,
They’re too cruel,
Or uncaring,
To take me.

When I am soaked,
And done,
I shall walk home simmering,
To a hot bath.

And I’ll soak,
Still fuming, and wondering,
If they’ll unexpectedly drown me,
Out of spite,
The bastards.

I have to be honest and say I do like Jenny Joseph’s “Warning”. The joy of rebellion and non-conformity underlying it is captivating. In contrast, I’m angry and energetic about getting old. I think the way I’ve watched politics unfold in recent years, watching my views actively demonised and marginalised has already made me a furious hermit of sorts…